


Mysterious Breakfast

by ami_ven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: writerverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a tray of food waiting for Bruce when he wakes up— but who could have left it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mysterious Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "burnt toast" (1k+ words)

As much as it hurt less when Bruce willingly gave up control to the Other Guy, it did still hurt— even relaxing into the change didn’t alter the fact that the human body was never intended to become giant and green, and then return to its original size. Still, now it was a much gentler full-body ache than it used to be, and Bruce generally felt like sleeping for an entire day, instead of an entire week, which was a vast improvement.

And Bruce found that he slept better afterward, knowing that the Other Guy was actually helping people, or at the very least, was on the same team as a super-soldier and a Norse god who could keep him from causing any real harm. Stark Tower— Avengers Tower, Clint had started calling it, after they’d all moved in— was about as secure a place as he’d ever find, especially in downtown New York, and Bruce found it almost easy, after their semi-traditional post-crisis team dinners, to fall into bed and sleep.

After sleeping like that, one afternoon, Bruce woke slowly, aching all over, to find a tray of food next to his bed. It was one of those heated trays that Tony had invented once, with separate heating elements to keep different foods all at the right temperature. Bruce lifted the lid to find a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, a mug of coffee, and four slices of slightly-burnt toast.

Bruce smiled, took a piece of toast, and tried to figure out who had left breakfast for him.

Tony would certainly had left him food, though he’d have ordered it in, instead of making it himself— or at least trying to— and he definitely would have woken Bruce up, to make sure he liked it, and ate it, and didn’t need anything else.

Steve was another likely suspect. He took his duties as team leader seriously, especially about making sure everyone ate and slept enough. Steve always preferred homemade food, when he could arrange it. Bruce wondered about the combination of Steve growing up in the Depression, then joining the Army and becoming a super-soldier, then becoming a superhero and moving in with a billionaire, because he tended to make big batches of old recipes using every kitchen gadget Tony had but had never touched. Which therefore ruled him out, this time, because the first thing Steve had learned how to use in Tony’s ‘new-fangled’ kitchen was the toaster, and he never burned anything in it.

Thor was also a surprisingly deft hand in the kitchen, for an alien god-prince, but he hadn’t quite figured out the range of portion sizes between ‘hungry god’ and ‘petite astrophysicist’, so for a single meal like Bruce had been left, there was either too much food, or not enough, for Thor to have made it.

Clint and Natasha could both cook, as far as Bruce knew, but he had been around after enough SHIELD missions to know that according to them, a ‘good’ breakfast would have been much healthier, probably involving vitamin supplements and vegetables, and a ‘bad’ breakfast would have been a box of doughnuts.

So who could have made him this breakfast?

“Hey, look who’s finally awake,” said Darcy, from the doorway.

Bruce looked up at her, surprised, and realized that he wasn’t in his room in Stark/Avengers Tower— he was in a small, slightly messy apartment, lying on the couch and covered with a hand-knit blanket. “Darcy?”

“Yes, this is my apartment,” she said, “and no, you did not have crazy wild sex with me, which you have then forgotten.”

“ _Darcy_ ,” he protested, not because he objected to the idea of sex with her, but because they had only been dating for three weeks, and he was determined to be a gentleman.

She grinned and plunked herself down on the other end of the couch, snagging a piece of toast from the tray, then sliding it closer to him. “Even this thing can’t keep it warm forever,” said Darcy. 

Bruce obligingly took a bite of eggs— then realized how hungry he was, and cleaned his plate in record time.

“There’s more of everything, if you’re still hungry,” said Darcy. “Or, I could—”

“No,” he interrupted, smiling. “This was perfect. Thank you.”

She grinned, and leaned over to claim a kiss. “You’re welcome. I brought your spare clothes, if you want to change, but I’ll be just as happy if you didn’t.”

Bruce laughed. “I’m sure you would. But, um— and I’m not complaining!— but how did I end up here?”

“You conked out pretty much immediately after turning pink and squishy again,” said Darcy. “Steve and Thor were going to carry you back to the Tower, but we were, like, two blocks from my apartment.”

“Oh,” said Bruce. “Thank you. But you didn’t have to.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and scooted closer, playing with the fringed edge of the blanket. “I know I didn’t _have_ to, I _wanted_ to. And I know that’s exactly what I told you when you complained about me starting to bring your change of clothes to you.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Bruce said quickly. “I just think that, even if we are dating, I don’t have the right to expect you to do anything for me.”

“Of course you do!” said Darcy. “I’m your friend, Bruce. I’m your _girlfriend_ , and you have every right to expect me to do nice things just because I like doing nice things for you. And if you _don’t_ start expecting it, I’m going to feel offended.”

Bruce reached out to catch her hand. “I would never want to offend you, Darcy,” he said, smiling.

“Good,” she said, smiling back. “Now, all this talk about feelings and whatnot has got me hungry again, so I’m going to make some more toast. You want some?”

“Sure,” said Bruce, reluctantly letting go of her hand. 

“Coming right up,” said Darcy, leaning in for a brief kiss, before heading for the kitchen, and Bruce couldn’t help hoping that she’d end up burning the toast, just a little.

THE END


End file.
